Work Text:
"Could you hand me my phone?"
Takma looked up from his coffee, confused. Beyun was lying on the couch, by all appearances still half-asleep, one arm thrown over his eyes as if to ward off the weak morning sunlight filtering through the living room curtains. He certainly hadn't made it over to the dining room table, where Takma was currently nursing his coffee, and there was no phone in sight nearby.
"Where is it?" he asked suspiciously. He was no newcomer to this game.
"My bedside table," Beyun replied, his hand flapping lazily in the general direction of his room — which, Takma couldn't help but notice, was actually closer to the couch than the table.
"And why can't you get it?" Takma asked, amused. He wasn't sure why he bothered; he knew how this would play out, as much as he told himself he wouldn't keep giving in.
Beyun replied with something between a whine and a grunt, rolling over to bury his face in the couch cushion. He'd probably be mortified if he ever realized doing so left fabric impressions on his cheek, but he never actually made it to the bathroom in time to see it in the mirror, and Takma would be damned if he ever gave that secret away.
Takma stood with a sigh, temporarily abandoning his coffee to head for Beyun's room, which was as always a riotous mess of books, clothes, and hair and skin products. He stepped carefully to avoid crushing anything potentially important, nudging aside books and belts and little glass tubs of creams that probably cost more than Takma made in a month.
The bedside table was no neater, with half-drunk wine bottles, old snack wrappers, and scribbled notes littering the surface. Takma picked through the mess, looking for any sign of the phone with no luck. He did eventually unearth the phone charger, but of course there was no phone attached to the end.
"Where on the bedside table?" Takma called out, exasperated. Seriously, he was going to stop enabling this behavior. Soon. Next time. For sure.
"It's in there somewhere," came Beyun's sleepy reply. Takma wasn't so sure; his roommate and best friend was without a doubt the smartest man he knew, but he was rarely firing on all cylinders before noon.
Still, he was here, so he may as well be thorough. He slid open the drawer on the nightstand and—
It took a few seconds to register what he was seeing; not just a variety of colors, but a truly impressive range of improbable sizes and shapes greeted him, along with several half-empty bottles rolling along the bottom of the drawer.
Bottles with a familiar logo on them — Takma's own favorite brand of lube.
Oh.
Oh.
As soon as he registered what he was seeing, Takma slammed the drawer shut, his cheeks heating.
The sound of the drawer slamming must have been enough to rouse Beyun. A sleepy "Takma?" drifted in from the living room, and Takma sucked in a deep breath, trying his best to calm his beating heart.
Did those—
Does Beyun—
But how—
"Takma?"
Takma whirled around, fully aware his expression was probably doing something terrible. He could only hope Beyun was too tired to notice.
"It's not here," Takma said, his voice oddly hoarse.
Beyun's brow furrowed as he stumbled through his room, flopping face-down down on his bed and letting his hand dredge through the mess on the floor next to it.
Takma watched this, wide-eyed, and didn't realize until Beyun grunted in frustration that his eyes had strayed lower, taking in the curve of Beyun's ass under the thin cotton of his pajama pants. Did he really—
"Ah!" Takma jerked guiltily, eyes snapping back to Beyun's face as he pushed himself up, brandishing the phone he'd found on the floor. "Must have fallen off in the night."
"Of course," Takma agreed, mouth twisting wryly. "How could I ever miss that in here?"
If Beyun caught the sarcasm, he didn't react to it, instead sighing heavily as the phone of his screen stayed stubbornly dark despite all his tapping.
"It's dead," he finally proclaimed. He turned to Takma, fabric creases on his cheek, gaze sleepy but hopeful. "Can I borrow yours?"
Takma huffed out a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his morning stubble. He was generally a morning person, but honestly, he needed his coffee before he could even begin to process all this.
"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "I'll grab it for you."